Harry Potter and the Secret
by Latte Bella
Summary: Harry Potter finds a sick Professor Snape at the door of his house, and he is now entered into a new world, a world where Professor Snape is his father. Severitus fic. Please r&r!
1. Chapter 1

** Important AN:Chapter 1 comes from trinity1228, but the next chapter is mine!  
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**Harry Potter and The Secret **

**Unexpected Guests**

It was early morning and sweat was already trickling down Harry Potter's face and down his back as he worked in the small backyard of Number Four Privet Drive. It was Saturday, and the Dursleys hadn't even thought about waking yet. Harry was up all the earlier; yesterday his aunt had handed him a list of chores that encompassed the front and back of a piece of notebook paper in her small, controlled script. Harry was jolted from his intense daydreaming as he weeded his aunt's garden by the unmistakable crack of air being displaced. Someone had Apparated to Privet Drive. Harry nearly expected to see Dobby the house elf's green tennis ball-like eyes gazing at him with hero worship. His heart jumped into his throat as he bolted to his feet, desperately searching his pockets. His heart sank; his wand was in his room, beneath the loose floorboards. Harry scanned the yard and his stomach clenched in terror. The dark figure standing in the middle of his aunt's flower-beds was tall, thin, and dressed in a hooded black cloak and a white mask. A Death Eater carousing about in Surrey? Frozen with fear, Harry waited for more to appear and the curses to fly. This did not happen, and instead the figure in black swayed, stumbled, then fell in a heap to the ground.  
>Tentatively, Harry shuffled closer to the prone figure. The hood and mask had fallen off, and as Harry crouched down and turned the person over, he realized it was none other than his hated and feared Potions master, Professor Severus Snape. His face was far paler than Harry had ever seen it.<p>

"Professor Snape?"

Harry hesitantly shook the man's shoulder, and his palm came back smeared with partially congealed blood. Harry looked closer at the black robes and realized they were slick with blood. Horrified, Harry was scared the greasy git would die in his yard and he would be blamed. At the moment Harry had no way contacting the wizarding world. Hedwig hadn't returned yet. It would not do for the Dursleys to find a fully grown wizard bleeding to death in the garden. For now, Harry was on his own. That seemed to be his lot in life. He glanced up at the garden shed; no one but Harry went in there during the summer. He could hide Professor Snape in there until he woke up or until Hedwig returned.

Harry stood and grabbed the man's arms, tucking the Death Eater mask into the waistband of his jeans and proceeded to slowly drag him across the dewy grass to the shed. Professor Snape groaned slightly, but didn't wake.

"Sorry, Professor," he apologized, but was pretty sure the man couldn't hear him. Harry banged open the shed door. There were some old moth-eaten blankets on the shelves, and Harry pulled them down to create a pallet on the dirt floor for the injured man. With a large amount of difficulty, Harry managed to maneuver the man onto the blankets. He balled up one of the blankets and propped the professor's head up. Harry needed to find where all the blood on his robes came from, so he reached up to try to discern where the blood was the wettest. Harry jumped as Snape's large hand latched onto his wrist like a vice. Harry glanced down and realized eyes of the blackest lodestone were glaring up at him.

"Professor? Sir?" Harry questioned.

The Potions master gazed momentarily at Harry before his face melted into a muddled mix of confusion and something else Harry couldn't quite put his finger on. Snape's grip on his arm never loosened, but he began to relax on the makeshift bed again, pulling Harry with him.

Harry wrenched his arm away, and Professor Snape grasped franticly at Harry's grimy t-shirt and pulled him down close.

"Please help me, Lily." The whispered plea shocked Harry. "Please, Lily. I am sorry...I should not have gone...Please... Help me. I am sorry...You told me not to go...please..." The anguish in Snape's voice unnerved Harry. "My Fault," the man continued to plead in a gravelly voice. "Please help me, Lily. I should have listened to you..."

Harry grimaced, unsure of himself. He stared down at his most hated professor, who was looking expectantly into his green eyes, and found himself wanting to reassure the injured man. "It's okay, sir. It's okay. Lily forgives you."

Slowly, he watched as the vulnerable, pleading face of the wizard relaxed, and he collapsed back onto the blankets. Harry's alarm grew by the minute. Harry placed a hand against the Potions master's forehead- he was burning up! He was clearly delirious with fever. Snape called for someone named Lily. Could it have been Lily Potter? Had he known his mum? It was a good possibility, since the Snape had known James Potter.

Aunt Petunia was rather neurotic about her Dudders getting hurt, so therefore, she had an extensive first aide kit, which, of course, was not ever used on Harry. The young wizard scurried into the house and quietly retrieved the kit from beneath the sink in the guest's bathroom, along with some hand towels that wouldn't be missed by his aunt. Back outside, when Harry opened the case, he realized his aunt had a small triage kit. He snorted; they were probably afraid Harry would cause physical harm to Dudley. Harry rifled through the kit. There was a small bottle of saline, sterile water, some bandage scissors, and aspirin, among other things.

The professor's normally pale cheeks were bright red, and his skin was hot to the touch. A fever...a high one. The aspirin would work, but how to get him to swallow the pills? Harry thought about it a minute, then crushed them up and mixed them with a teaspoon or so of water in one of the small paper medicine cups in the box. Harry tilted Snape's head up and held the cup to his lips.

"Professor, you need to drink this. It's...It's a potion to make you feel better."

Snape thrashed about weakly and pushed his hand away. Trying and failing several times, Harry sighed, frustrated, then had an idea.

"Sir, Lily said you needed to take this or she wouldn't help you." The man looked at Harry blankly, his onyx eyes fever bright but hopeful, then gave the briefest of nods. Harry held the cup to the man's mouth once again, and this time he drank it. He watched Harry curiously for a moment before Snape's dark eyes rolled back into his head, and he lost consciousness again.

As Harry began to peel the ruined shirt away from Snape's chest, the man let out a startled cry of pain. Harry winced; his teacher's torso was riddled with bloody slashes. Most of the smaller ones had stopped bleeding by this point, but the largest reached from beneath his left collar bone across his chest to his right rib cage. The red inflamed lips of the gaping wound curled outward, exposing the flesh and sinew beneath. Bright red blood continued to ooze sluggishly out, and Harry pressed one of the towels firmly on it to quell the bleeding; he wasn't sure how much more blood Snape could afford to lose.

What was he to do? He was usually the one hurt; he had never had to take care of anyone else before.

As Harry continued to press onto the wound, Snape's head shot up and he hissed in pain, his eyes tightly clamped shut and his lips pressed into a thin line, as though trying not to cry out.

Looking down at the wounded wizard, Harry found that he had only pity for the man. While not being snarky, he thought his professor quite agreeable. In fact, the closer that he looked into Snape's face, Harry realized just how young his professor really was; he was in the same year as his mum and dad. This would make him only around thirty-five. Studying the Potions master closely, Harry found that he could believe it looking at the man when his infamous disdainful sneer was absent. In repose, some of the lines etched into face smoothed, making him look less aged. Harry finished cleaning and dressing the wounds as best he could and sat back on his heels. He pulled the Death Eater mask from his jeans and studied it more closely. Dumbledore clearly trusted the man for reasons unknown to everyone else, but remembering being surrounded in the graveyard by the men wearing these masks made Harry's stomach clinch in anxiety. As Harry mulled over all the times Professor Snape had saved his hide, he turned the mask over to examine the inside. There was a stylized carving of a flower on the inside of the mask, a fleur-de-lis. Harry ran his finger over the carving, thinking it was a very odd thing for an ex-Death Eater spy to be wearing in his mask. He shook his head as he put the mask down and looked again at the teacher. Harry could not help but feel that things could possibly change between him and the Potions master after this. Perhaps the dour man would remember this when the when September first came again. Harry had nothing personal against his professor. Snape's abysmal treatment of Harry since first year had caused him to reciprocate the feelings. Had things been different, Harry would have probably _liked _Potions.

The next two days held the same routine: chores by the dozen, and in between Harry was tending to Professor Snape's dressing changes and fever. The largest of the cuts never did stop bleeding entirely, even after Harry tried closing it with the butterfly strips in the first aide kit. Harry was sure that the injuries were infected. It seemed that Professor Snape woke up a bit and recognized him, but soon was sleeping fitfully again. Harry hoped Hedwig would hurry back.

The two days after Snape appeared in the garden were the coolest there had been all summer. In fact, it was rather unseasonably cold; Harry had piled another of the moth eaten blankets on Snape. For once, the injured man was sleeping peacefully instead of moaning and pleading with individuals unseen. His color was much better, and his skin wasn't nearly so hot to the touch.

The cool breeze that had been blowing all day brought in dark storm clouds that evening. Between playing nurse to the ailing Potions master and the seemingly endless chores he had to complete, Harry needed a well deserved break. Just in case, he retrieved his wand from beneath the loose floorboard in his room.

Harry knew he should have stayed close to Number Four that night. As a result, it all quickly descended into utter madness and chaos in a seemingly short amount of time. But then, things that should be commonplace usually ended up as a harrowing, life threatening incident for Harry.

"Don't you talk to me like that, boy!" Vernon bellowed, and he drew back his fist to strike Harry.

The front door flew open with a bang, and Severus Snape stepped in the house, brandishing his wand. "Lay one finger on that boy and it may be the last thing you ever do!" Snape snarled menacingly.

The imposing image of his professor made Uncle Vernon take a step back and release him. Harry's mouth gaped open. Just a couple of hours ago, Snape had been completely unconscious, and now he seemed as fearsome as ever. But as he watched his teacher stalk farther into the room, Harry could tell by his demeanor that Snape was still very much in pain and weak, but was doing an impressive job of hiding it.

"Now, I won't have you freaks meddli-"

He never finished his sentence, for Snape flicked his wand, and Uncle Vernon fell over, Stunned.

"FREAK! Severus Snape!" Aunt Petunia screeched, her horsy face turning crimson with anger. "How dare you set foot in my home, attacking my husband!"

Harry's eyes widened, for surely he was hallucinating, Aunt Petunia knew Snape? That didn't make any sense. Aunt Petunia hated magic and all things involved with it.

"Petunia..." Snape sneered, "I see the years have not been kind."

"How dare you! You filthy good-for-nothing! I don't know what my worthless sister saw in-"

Aunt Petunia's tirade was cut off as Snape advanced upon her and pressed his wand into her boney chest. "_Never _speak ill of Lily Evans in my presence again. I will do far worse than drop a tree branch on your miserable head, Petunia. After seeing how you treat her son, I am sure she would thank me. If the situation were reversed, she would have loved your son as her own."

Harry couldn't believe what he was hearing and seeing. Snape was defending him?

Snape glanced over at Harry. "Potter, stop gawking and get your things. We are leaving."

"But, Professor-" Harry began.

"Do as I say, Potter," Snape barked.

"I can't, Professor; my school truck is locked my cupboard."

Snape narrowed his dark eyes at Petunia. _  
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>"Do not move from this spot, Petunia." Snape turned stiffly and followed Harry to the cupboard. With a flick of his wand, the door swung open and Harry's school trunk, Hegwig's cage and broomstick slid out.<p>

"If there is anything else you need, Potter, now is the moment to retrieve it," Snape snarled.

Harry nodded and bolted up the stairs to collect his few belongings from beneath the loose floorboard in the smallest bedroom.

Snape stepped to the cupboard for a closer look as something caught his eye; a yellowed bit of paper was haphazardly taped up on the back wall. Written clumsily on it in black crayon were the words 'Harys room.' Snape's obsidian eyes widened; it couldn't be possible. Even that bitch Petunia wouldn't do that to a child-Lily's child. But it was clear that it was true, a dusty worn baby blanket lay abandoned in the corner, along with a few broken crayons and toy knights. Snape's hand tightened on his wand; the Death Eater within him wanted to curse the Dursleys into the next millennium. Snape's head was spinning, for the small amount of magic he used had nearly drained him to the point of collapse, but he would breathe his last breath before he would let Petunia see weakness in him. He strode back to Petunia, who was still pressed against the wall as though she wished for nothing more than to disappear into it. Snape leveled his stoney gaze at the sour-faced woman.

"_His cupboard_? What have you done, Petunia?"

She didn't reply, but glared at Snape with the deepest of loathing.

"I knew Dumbledore had lost his mind, leaving him with the likes of you," Snape sneered into the pinched face. "Still jealous, Tuney?"

"I will never understand how my sister could love the likes of you! She was never the same after she met you. Dirty, awful boy from the wrong side of the tracks," Petunia spat, giving Snape a sneer to rival his own.

Snape didn't have a chance to reply as Harry came thumping down the stairs. Harry deposited the pillow case of things into his school trunk.

"I'm ready, sir."

"Do you have your wand, Potter?"

Harry nodded and pulled it from his sleeve to show his professor. Snape nodded.

Professor Snape waved his wand at Harry's trunk and, Hedwig's cage and they shrank until they were the size of dollhouse furniture. Harry grabbed it from the floor and put it in his jeans pocket. He grabbed up his Firebolt and carried it over his shoulder

Before they could move out the front door, there were suddenly enough owl posts and Howlers bombarding the house over the space of the next few moments to make Harry's head spin.

The first one came from the Ministry of Magic, Underage Use of Magic Department, informing Harry he had been expelled for the use of underage magic outside of school. The next owl post was from Mr. Weasley, ordering Harry to stay put and not surrender his wand. Seconds later, another owl dropped a letter at his feet from the Ministry, stating Harry had not been expelled yet, but would have a hearing later in the summer. The final letter was to Harry from the Headmaster himself. This one said could Harry leave with Professor Snape, and there would be Order members meeting them soon in front of Mrs. Figg's house. From there the guard would escort Harry safely to Headquarters.


	2. Chapter 2

** Harry Potter and The Secret  
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**Chapter 2: Thoughts and Pondering  
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Harry was glad to leave the Dursleys because he can tell from how Professor Snape was looking at the Dursleys that Professor Snape wanted to kill them, if only looks can kill them.

Harry was not used to being in the bizarre situation as this. He couldn't believe that he was able to finally leave the Dursleys for good this time. The walk to Mrs. Figg's house was very silent and strained. Harry wasn't sure what Professor Snape said to the Dursleys, or why Professor Snape wasn't saying anything to Harry. Harry decided to bite his cheek seeing how this was not a very nice walk to Mrs. Figg.

And of course, there is the fact that Mrs. Figg actually has a lot of cats in her house. Harry wasn't really happy to be going to Mrs. Figg's house. He blames the incident that he had with Mr. Whisker the last time he went over to her house.

Professor Snape, on the other hand, was watching Harry very carefully, and was wondering how he never noticed that abuse that Harry must have suffered at the hands of the Dursley. He remembered hearing about from Professor Minerva, that Ronald Weasley rescued Harry in his second year, and that the windows had bars on them. He was pretty sure that it was a lie, however, he can now visibly see the bars on one of the windows at the Dursley's house. Professor Snape was wondering how on earth he can tell the headmaster, that he was off his marble for placing Harry at the Dursley's.

Yes when they'll get to the Order he'll explain to Dumbledore, all that he saw while staying at the Dursley's house. And he will try to change his behavior towards Harry, for the fact, that he really reminds him of Lily.

They got to Mrs. Figg's house in less than five minutes, because Professor Snape, did not want Harry to be in a house filled with a blood ward that was clearly dying, and thus leaving Harry to be unprotected. Also, he wanted to see which guard would escort Harry safely to the Headquarters.

Also, Professor Snape needed to tell Dumbledore the crazy plans that Voldemort had in stored for Harry. It was the exact reason why he came to Surrey. Of course, he never expected for Voldemort to be so psychotic and torture all his death eaters, because he founded out that one of his devotee is a spy. Luckily enough, his occulumency skills, got him to not get his position to be revealed. But he was close to dying. Lucky, that Harry knows how to heal. And he now knew why.

He remembered hearing from Molly Weasley, in one Order meeting, suspecting that the Dursleys were not the suitable guardian for Harry, especially since she heard from her sons, how Harry was locked and starved, almost to death. He brushed away all the accusations that Mrs. Weasley made, but now, he can see while walking away from the Dursleys that there were indeed bars over the window of one of the rooms in the house. He suspected, that Harry must have lived most of his life in the cupboard, but then got a room, because of Hogwarts.

_What did Harry have to do in order to survive in the Dursleys?_


End file.
